


From Dawn until Dusk

by NotTheProtagonist



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: F/M, Oh boy it's sad, bittersweet is what it is, i'm sorry everyone, no fluff here, you know about Joy you know it's sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 07:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16929138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotTheProtagonist/pseuds/NotTheProtagonist
Summary: Anne was so very tired. But Joy still had not cried.





	From Dawn until Dusk

**Author's Note:**

> Why did I write this. I'm just sad now. I wanted to write a nice post-marriage fic and I wrote this. I mean, it's good at making you sad so if you're in that kind of mood, go for it my friend.

Anne was tired. She was so, so tired. Her body had had quite enough. She had been carrying an extra human for nine months, didn't she deserve a little rest?  
But Gilbert was begging her not to close her eyes and she'd never been very good at saying no to him.  
She tried to lift her hand to his, but her head only rocked to one side.  
She tried to ask what was wrong. Why can't I sleep? Why can't I feel anything? Why can't I hear her crying?  
Their Joyce. Their little bundle of Joy. She needed to hear a shrill cry; a cry she'd be begging to stop in the next several years. What was taking so long?  
Anne could see the sun rising from their bedroom window. Finally, dawn. Their little girl was born at dawn; she promised herself she'd remember. Her mind seemed a little fuzzy though, and she was worried she'd forget.  
She watched Gilbert stare at a bunch of towels he was cradling – she had only seen him look at her like that. Pay attention, she thought hard, you need to remember she was born at dawn.  
But what was so special about those towels? She watched a tiny hand emerge from them, reaching for Gilbert.  
Of course, her daughter. Their daughter. Little Joy.  
She could see someone in her peripheral vision moving very quickly around her, then watched as Gilbert looked at her and turned pale. Joy was handed to a similarly pallid Marilla and Gilbert began to help the midwife. As soon as she was handed to her grandmother, Joy let out a piercing cry.  
Thank God, Anne wanted to laugh.  
Why were they so worried? Joy was crying – she was okay.  
She rolled her head again, facing the other side of their bed. There were towels everywhere. She hoped they wouldn't have to replace the mattress.  
Never mind, her mind sighed. She could worry about those things when she woke up…

It was almost dusk when Anne stirred.  
She heard a heavy sigh – a sigh she could recognize. It usually stemmed from a long day at the surgery, coming out as he relaxed in front of a roaring fireplace.  
“Anne.” He sat on the bed, covering her hand with his.  
“Where is she?” She murmured, lifting her other hand, which seemed heavier than usual, to rub her brow.  
“She's right here. Waiting for you to wake up.” He replied, his voice cracking.  
She tried to sit up, nodding as Gilbert moved her pillows and helped her. She could feel a dull ache, but it seemed to lighten as she laid her eyes on Joy.  
He moved to the small white cradle, picking her up as if she was made of paper. He knelt on the mattress and passed Anne their daughter, before biting his thumb until it bled.  
Anne stared at her for a long time, before looking back to her life-mate. “She's too small.”  
His tear-stained cheeks were still pale as he nodded. “It was hard on both of you. We weren't even sure if you'd wake up. The midwife says she's not sure if she'll make it through the night.”  
Anne's eyes fell back to a sleeping Joy. She wrapped her up tighter, as if to protect her from the invisible illness plaguing her. She had been too eager – too impatient to meet her family and see what the real world was all about. Neither mother or daughter had been ready.  
She looked back to Gilbert and held out her hand.  
He took it, joining her under the covers with one arm around her and another around their first child.  
Mother and father whispered tiny comforts to their daughter as the sky got darker and Joy got paler.  
The tiny grave outside was always covered in flowers. Marilla had knitted a teddy which kept Joy company when her parents were tending to each other's grief.  
Anne felt an icy knife slice through her every time she saw the mound. What if she was still alive? What if she was crying, waiting for someone to save her? Several times she had sprinted to the grave and started to tear at the dirt, before Gilbert brought her back or her own mind froze and forced her to confront her present: her daughter was dead.  
And, for the time being, that was that.

It was almost ten months later when Anne felt something stir in her abdomen. She'd been feeling sick and missed her cycle, but was hoping if she ignored it, it would go away.  
She couldn't go through that again. She couldn't put Gilbert through it.  
She had watched his face drain when she told him. Then, he seemed relieved. 'It's a second chance', he'd said.  
Regardless, they had both been terrified throughout the pregnancy. Anne took longer for her maternity leave and made a habit of cutting her long walks short. Gilbert would rush home from work every night to find his wife rubbing her swelling belly, exclaiming that he was kicking.  
James Matthew was equally perfect to his older sister and, thankfully, all the eavesdropping gods indulged Anne and Gilbert's desperate begging. Their second child lived and, to Anne's instant chagrin and Gilbert's amusement, had a head of bright red hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I'm sorry if it made you sad.


End file.
